


Promises

by elisetales



Series: Promises [3]
Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, Fluff and Angst, In which Cain cannot accept Abel's friends, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Romance, and is a controlling asshole, gratuitous cursing, stupid boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisetales/pseuds/elisetales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when your boyfriend leaves you and goes to stay with one of his girlfriends? Why, go on over there and threaten to break down the door, of course! How To Be A Bad Boyfriend and Fail At Logic: Cain edition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

Cain leans on one shoulder against the door-frame and pounds a fist against the wood. “Abel,” he growls, pressing his boot against the bottom of the door. He considers just kicking the damn thing down and having done with it—it’s cold, he’s tired from standing out here for nearly an hour, and he’s _not_ leaving without Abel, even if he has to break down the fucking door and carry him out to the car kicking and screaming.  

“Go away, Cain, or I’m calling the cops!” Stacey calls from inside the apartment. “You really want to spend the night in lock-up again?” Cain scowls at the door and mutters, “ _Bitch_ ,” under his breath.

He knows Stacey’s Abel’s best friend, but he still can’t fucking stand her. He knows she’s always hated him—looks down on him, thinks Abel’s too good for him—and Cain hates her right back. She can’t mind her own damn business and she’s always filling Abel’s head with trash, trying to encourage him to leave and find someone better—someone with the right background, the right parents, the right money.

Someone who deserves him. Someone who can actually provide for him and give him the life he should have.

Cain pushes this thought from his mind and wonders where Stacey’s snivelly little boyfriend is instead, the mousy-looking one who’s always leering at Abel’s ass. Probably cowering behind her, Cain thinks with a snort; too afraid to come out and challenge Cain himself. Little coward—letting some asshole pound down the door while his girlfriend’s inside. Cain has to give Stacey credit for at least having the balls to stand up to him when even her boyfriend can’t.  

He clenches a hand into a fist, shaking with barely subdued rage, and calls back, “Just send him the fuck out and I’ll go! Do I have to kick the fucking door in? Abel, come on, for fuck’s—”

“No, Cain, he doesn’t want to talk to you, now _leave_!” Stacey shouts, cutting him off.

Cain growls and presses his ear against the door, nails scratching at the wood, and can just barely make out Abel’s voice, soft and gentle:

“It’s alright, Stacey, I’ll go outside and talk to him. Don’t—don’t call the cops on him, it’s okay. I-I’ll talk to him and I’ll make him go home and then everything’s going to be fine, alright?”

“Ethan—”

“It’s _fine_.”

There’s a tensing in Cain’s stomach when he hears Abel’s voice—guilt about the fight, maybe, even though it was Abel who fucking started it by staying out half the night with Stacey and coming back smelling like some other prick’s cologne. But he knows as soon as he talks to Abel, as soon as he sees him, that Abel’ll come round and want to go back home with him, and that everything will be alright again. Abel always comes back home with him.

The door bursts open and Cain stumbles against it, clutching at the handle to regain his footing. Stacey stands in the doorway, hands on her hips and pale hair tangled around her waist, and glares down at him. She looks enough like Abel to be his sister. “You happy?” she snaps at him, throwing him a filthy look. “You’ve got what you wanted; just like you always do.”

Cain curls his lip at her but says nothing. His gaze slides to Abel and his expression softens in spite of himself. “Abel—”

“Don’t.” Arms folded across his chest, Abel stalks past him, knocking him in the shoulder, and stares out over the balcony, his back to Cain.

Stacey’s boyfriend appears over her shoulder then, pushing his glasses up over the bridge of his nose. “Are you sure you’re alright, Ethan?” he calls.

“I’m fi—”

“Don’t you fucking _look_ at him,” Cain snarls and takes a menacing step forward. "And don't say his fucking name," he adds for good measure. He doesn't know why but he can't stand the sound of Abel's real name on someone else's lips. The boyfriend looks suddenly guilty and shrinks away from Cain.

 “Cain, leave him alone!” Abel snaps from behind him.

“Tch.” Cain sneers at the four-eyed little shit and rounds on Stacey. “Close the door and mind your own damn business for a change.”

“Don’t _talk_ to her like that!” Abel growls, and Stacey says, “Forget it, Ethan, it’s fine. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Abel lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I’m fine," he mutters. "Just… just go inside and I’ll be back in a minute.”

The door closes and the second they’re alone, Cain says, “Get your shit, we’re leaving.”

“No. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Abel—”

“You need to go.”

“Not without you,” Cain says through clenched teeth, and Abel turns around to face him, arms folded.

His hair is wet—must have been in the shower just before, Cain thinks; the first place Abel goes when he's upset about something—and his eyes are red and puffy from crying. He’s wearing a shirt Cain doesn’t recognize, and Cain feels like losing his shit when he realizes it probably belongs to four-eyes.

He forces himself to look at Abel even though he doesn’t want to: He hates it when Abel cries—turning on the water-works is always the first thing he does when he wants to make Cain feel like an asshole, and Cain resents him for it because it never fails to work. But he still doesn’t understand why anyone would want to cry over him, especially Abel, who Cain thinks is better than that. Crying never solved a fucking thing.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Abel begins, shaking his head. “I’m sick of fighting with you every day, I’m just… I’m so exhausted, Cain.”

Cain snorts at this, is sick of hearing Abel complain about his life when _he_ fucking chose it, and snaps, “Yeah, well you knew what you were getting yourself into when you decided to leave your charmed little life and your rich daddy behind to come be with me. I never forced you to do anything, did I? Now what, you’re just gonna leave when it gets tough—pretend like you never knew exactly what I was—and blame it all on me?”

“I’m not blaming you for anything; I know you can’t help it,” Abel says quietly, breath hitching. “I just… we don’t… it’s not working anymore. It hasn’t for a long time.” He looks like he’s going to cry again, and Cain feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“What’s it really about?” Cain asks. “Is it money? If it’s money you’re worried about, I can get—”

“Cain,” Abel interrupts him softly, frowning. “How can you even think that?”

“What, you think I don’t know you’re slumming it with me?” Cain says, more harshly than he intends. He knows he can't give Abel the life he once had, though everything Cain's got he gives.

“Shut up, Cain, I’ve never thought that,” Abel mutters, looking away from him. 

No, Cain thinks as he stares at the side of Abel’s face, Abel _wouldn’t_ think that. He doesn’t look at things the way everyone else does. Can’t see what they see. But that doesn’t make what Cain said any less true, and he’s sure—somewhere inside—Abel knows that.

"Just... just go," Abel says then, rubbing at his eyes. "Please. I can't talk to you right now."

“If I leave,” Cain answers, clenching and unclenching his fists, “I won’t come back. You’ll never see me again.” He’s lying—he’ll probably never leave Abel alone to be with someone else; he can't because the thought of someone else touching him drives Cain mad—but Abel doesn’t have to know that. If he gives a shit about Cain at all he won’t want him to walk away.

It seems to work. Abel’s eyes go wide and he says, “Please don’t say that,” like Cain’s just belted him in the mouth. He lets out an exasperated breath and closes the gap between them, putting his arms around Cain's waist and pressing the side of his face to the center of Cain's chest. 

“I don't want you to go, but things have to change," he murmurs against Cain's jacket.

"They will," Cain promises, and he puts his arms around Abel and holds him—doesn't give a fuck who's looking. "If you go out I won't be a prick about it next time, alright?"

"That's not why I left, Cain."

"Then why did you?"

Abel lets out a low breath and tenses in Cain's arms. "It's not even the names you call me," he begins quietly, and Cain actually feels like the stupid bastard he is when he thinks about the things he says in anger to Abel—calling him a slut and a bitch and a whore—when _he_ was Abel's first, and knows Abel's only ever been with him. "It's not that you scare me when you get like that," Abel goes on, "even though you do. It's that you don't trust me. You've never trusted me. You think I'd sneak around with someone else behind your back and I hate that. How can you even think that of me?"

"I don't," Cain says finally, whole body wound tight as wire. "You just..."

He curses himself for getting into a situation where it's necessary to apologize, because he's never been good at this—this saying he's sorry bullshit. Never thought he'd have to be. But there's a whole lot Abel's ripped out of him that Cain didn't know existed.

Everything had been simpler back before he joined the Alliance: when he'd had nothing and no one and didn't care who crossed him as he fought his way out of the colonies; back when he'd refused to kiss on the mouth and never fucked the same person twice; when he didn't understand things like apologizing or being considerate of someone's fucking feelings or looking after anyone but himself, because those were the things that got you killed, and none of it had ever factored into his world—you just survived, no matter the cost, and hoped you didn't fuck up badly enough along the way to end up with a knife in your back.

But he slipped up with Abel and knows it, got too close and let him under his skin, and now he's got Abel to look after, too. Now he's got to make sure they both survive. 

"You know I never mean it when I say that shit," he says finally, and leans back to touch Abel's face. Abel looks up at him, so trusting, and puts a hand on Cain's wrist. "It's my fault. I fucked up. I'm always fucking up. You know my promises aren't worth shit, but I want you to know that every time something like this happens, it's my fault, not yours. I do trust you, alright? I just don't trust anyone else and I hate it when I'm not there to watch what's going on around you."

Abel stares up at him with a stunned sort of expression, swaying slightly, and his eyes flutter closed. He lifts his head to be kissed and Cain leans down to brush his lips against Abel's. Abel kisses his neck and his jaw and leans back into him, arms tight around him, and Cain lets him because he knows Abel needs this more than he does—the long talks about feelings and the cuddling and all that other hearts and flowers bullshit. Needs it to feel safe. And this, at least, Cain can give to him. 

"Come home with me," Cain says, and he feels Abel slowly begin to relax against him. 

"Promise it won't be like last time," Abel whispers against him, hands twisted in Cain's jacket. "Promise you won't get so angry with me again. Promise me you'll start _trusting_ me more."

"I promise," Cain tells him, though it's worthless and empty. The only assurance he can give to Abel is that he'll protect him; that he'll give him everything he has, even if he's got nothing—even if he can't give Abel everything he's used to and everything he deserves. All he can give to him is what he's got, and where he comes from that's worth more than any broken promise. 


End file.
